there is the most beautiful blossom tree in the steep hill behind the gates that draw out the boundaries of my backyard. if not to sound too Anne Shirley-ish, it truthfully was a surprise and excitement to see that the black tree behind the gate that was bare and stiff in the summers bloomed into a torch of delicate white flowers. if i hadn't been reading the Anne of Green Gables books recently, there would probably be nothing to tell in this post.
i like flowers in the house and lately there's been no flowers around, save pine cones whose strong wintry scents are fading and fake holly garlands coiled to be put in the garage soon. with a pretty tree in the back of the house it's hard to not think about possibly getting some flowers and for free. so i made up my mind to go out back this weekend and pluck a few sprigs of blossoms for the kitchen table. thing is, once i unlocked--with difficulty-- the back gate door, i closed it after a few seconds. there was mud and tall green grass surely lined with a snake, and a fallen tree was in my path up the dangerously steep hillside. it was rocky and the tree, at this range, was much farther away than it had looked. too risky.
i also have acute OCD. i was back inside and i knew i probably did not lock the gate well. soo i got my Union Jack rainboots back on-- the bright plastic ones my sister had bought me from her trip to England last November and haven't touched since nothing i have goes with such obnoxious shoes as them-- and trudged back out.
the gate wasn't locked right.
and now the tree didn't look that far. or so i kept telling myself, to force myself back out there and give it a shot. i fully unlocked the gate and sprinted up that hill past whatever might be in the dirt. pulling and prying at the sprigs weren't easy as i imagined, cutting my pinky and thumb to get a few short branches.
now the sprigs are sweet-smelling and grace the table in the kitchen in a clear worn vase and looks fine against the set table. i did that. i pushed myself after shirking away once. i was all set, had the boots and the gate open and everything-- except the courage. this was a minor weekend incident that probably seems like nothing, but lately there's been a lot of doubt in my mind over things that have occurred to me this year, things that have made me feel unhopeful and yes, depressed. i have cried and felt a failure for reasons that now don't seem to matter.
they don't seem to matter to tell you all now, because i can still change them. that moment in pushing myself to go up and get the sprigs is personally a triumph to me-- a regain of strength and assurance that this tough year for me is going to change, that i will change it. that courage and sterness i had to march up against the dangers of the wildwood needs to grow within me, if not reflourish is it had back in high school. high school, Clayton Valley. good years. i was stronger, persistent, happy. i looked towards other mountain peaks towards which to leap after i'd conquered the top of Maslow's Hierarchy.
it's going to all begin again. life is just ups and downs and i've been in the downs, but the blossom tree-- it's sudden bloom and calming aesthetics always looming behind-- it forced to me to go up.
i've also learned that the Union Jack boots may not be too hideous after all. they are most sturdy and handy. they really are made in not-so-loud colors.
